Trials of War
by Loise
Summary: Quatre and Treize interact. Manipulation, the threat of war and the attraction of power. Set mainly preseries.


_Trials of War

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Treize wandered, without specific purpose, but with sure foot steps. This house was not his own, yet he walked liked he was master of it. Mr Winner had frowned at him, surrounded by his foolish consellors, as Treize had entered. Too much of a stir, too much delight had been raised by Treize's entry, had been clearly discernable from Mr Winner's posture.

The man clearly hated him, or loathed his purposes as a man of Mr Winner's beliefs often tended to do.

He had left the party, striding away from the gossiping matrons, the beautiful daughters, the familiar fathers and the eager sons. Recruits would swell OZ's power, and as head of OZ, Treize knew his duties.

It had been a surprise, to happen upon a boy, away from the party, and not in his bedroom.

The boy was sleeping. Head back, neck arched and barred towards him, lips parted. He looked almost childlike.

Treize paused, wondering why this boy was sleeping in the out of way place in the Winner House. The boy meanwhile sighed and shifted, eye lids fluttering.

Judging by his colouring, it was most likely this was the Winner Heir. Treize nodded, eyes narrowing and taking in all the features of the boy.

Thirteen, maybe fourteen, too young for war. Treize stepped back, into a corner when the boy muttered something in his sleep.

Certain rumours, persistent and very intriguing, flashed through his mind. Innocent as the the Winner Heir might look, those rumours quickly dispelled his aura.

Walking back to the lights and sounds of the party, Treize reminded himself to look into further detail about Quatre Winner. The boy, if properly guided, could become very useful. The Winners were the leaders of L4, and fabulously wealthy. Treize was sure that Quatre could help him enormously, especially with the current discontentment in the colonies.

* * *

Quatre stared after him, wondering what the fame OZ General had looked like in reality. The man had woken him up, but self preservation instincts had kept him in his sleeping pose.

All he knew of the General, was the way he walked. The surprisingly light step of the military issued books sounded more like Italian leather more than another. Quatre smiled, not so nicely, remembering the flamboyant uniforms of OZ. The high boots, the bright and colourful jackets, the gold fringing, the glossy brass buttons and the tight, white trousers.

He would have to meet up with this man. It could prove useful to the his cause. Treize had many secrets, a brilliant mind and it was not only military skill and achievement that allowed a man as young as Treize to rise so high and quickly to his current rank.

Plans would have to be made, to meet the powerful General.

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It was not until the next time the General was touring the colonies that Quatre had the chance to visit the General. He had joined his father, to the L4 Forum, where Treize would be addressing a crowd.

A year had passed, the General had hardly changed. Perhaps become more assured of himself, more thoughtful, but still infused with a drive and charisma that caused people to flock to him. Quatre had grown, cut his hair twice and was wearing a new suit. He still had disagreements with his father. Their thoughts and ideals, were linked, but Quatre could not use his father's methods. His father publicly defiled Quatre's personal, private beliefs. Quatre could not blame him, as he loved his father dearly, deeply. He wished his father's ideal could be reality. It wasn't.

Following his father, Quatre was a subdued but constant presence behind his father.

In the epicentre, Treize charmed the World. Despite his reservations, Quatre felt himself attracted to the man. His intelligent eyes, his tall straight back and the sound of Treize's voice. Eloquent and charming and everything Quatre should avoid. He wanted to turn away, to avert his eyes. He couldn't.

It was something that disturbed him. But was something, perhaps, he could use to his advantage.

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"Ah?"

"My name is Quatre Raberba Winner. It is very nice to meet you."

"Quatre," Treize murmured, and Quatre refused to shiver. "It's my pleasure." He bowed slightly, and Quatre felt like a child, when he hastily, awkwardly, tried to follow Treize's example.

There was laughter, and some snickering.

They had met. There was a connection. Quatre raised his head, cheeks pink.

Treize was smiling at him. But, in his eyes, his blue eyes, there was recognition and interest. Quatre gulped, and smiled up at Treize, conscious of the height difference between them. Treize leaned forward, hand engulfing his.

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Many months later Quatre wondered what Treize now thought of him.

He didn't often think of Treize, in a personal manner. He was the General, someone he was fighting against. Quatre could not think of him, remembering that they had dined together.

This was a war. People wanted him dead, desperately. Quatre valued his life, just as he esteemed other lives. To fight so that others could live, to live in peace.

That was his purpose.

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Death continued, the battle never ceased, war endured. People died, exploding in a mass of fire and destructive metal. Soldiers, dedicated to him, died. Soldiers, fighting him, died.

Debris floated in space, bodies would never be recovered, families would never have someone to mourn over. War had once seemed so permanent a fixture. It was extremely regrettable.

War had been going on for one year. It would end on this day.

Treize watched Quatre's Gundam for a moment.

Closed his eyes, hands moving with careless grace, in motions in hadn't realised he would ever use, years ago, when he was a cadet.

Death would hold meaning.

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Sometimes, rarely, Quatre visited Treize's grave. It was always covered in roses. Lady Une, he soon confirmed, must have left them there. Quatre wondered if Treize had thought of her, back in the heat of the battle. He hoped so.

They had met but a few times. It was silly, strange that such an impression would be left on him.

Quatre never left roses.

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End file.
